


One More Chance

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Vassanta seeks a purpose.





	One More Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published June 4, 2008

“At attention, soldier.” Behomat’s heavy hoof-falls echoed off the chamber’s high ceilings as he strode in, clutching a rolled parchment. “And wipe that smirk off your face.”

Her lips threatened to betray her, but Vassanta clenched her jaw and nodded briskly. “Yes, sir,” she muttered. The massive warrior was clad in ornate armor that she could only dream of owning, and was presently reading over the scroll. His brow seemed to drop further as he made his way down the page. Vassanta vaguely remembered meeting Behomat once, not long after the crash, but it seemed neither had made much impression upon the other.

He raised his horned head, messily folding the paper. His eyes blazed at her.

“I suppose you know what this is?” Vassanta didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Behomat went on, unheeded. “This is a report from your last trainer.” The warrior continued to stare.

“Nalzrin,” Vassanta offered.

Behomat grunted in reply, snapping the parchment open again.

“‘The student is negligent in all areas of study. Rebellious and willful. Refuses direct orders. Uses profanity, drinks to excess and immoral beha–‘” Behomat halted, blinking at the next line. “This behavior is unbecoming of any soldier, let alone a soldier of the Naaru.” He glanced at her again, appraisingly. “Your father was Valadaar, was he not?”

Vassanta winced inwardly, praying it would not show on her face. “Yes, sir.”

Behomat had lain the paper face-down on the table, and now stood imposingly before her. She knew what he was about to say.

“I knew Valadaar,” he said, his voice lowered. “Do you think you honor his memory with this?”

Vassanta wanted to retort, but she could not find the words. He was right. Her father had inspired her to pick up her first sword, to grow strong so that she too might battle against the Legion that threatened them all. He was gone, claimed in the ruins of the Exodar, but it seemed that she could feel his disappointment in her all the same.

She shook her head, the words catching in her throat. “No, sir.”

Behomat had folded his great arms across his chest. “You were dismissed from the ranks at Blood Watch. This Nalzrin has outright refused to train you any further. I can afford you one more chance, Vassanta, but that is all. Do you understand? One chance.”

Vassanta drew her brow, frowning. “Behomat — Sir, I want to go to fight the Legion, I am tired of wasting my time here doing errands for dwarves! How does that help anything?”

The warrior returned her gaze, unflinching. “One chance, Vassanta. I suggest that you do not waste it.”

He paused to snatch the parchment from the table before he strode out, the sound of his hooves again announcing his departure.

Vassanta watched him go, his words still stinging her ears. She didn’t want to ruin this, she wanted to serve as her father had served, to strike down the Legion before they took any more innocent lives. To reclaim Draenor, or at least what was left of it. So why was it so difficult?

She descended the ramp into the Trader’s Tier, where the bustle of activity was a welcome change from the ringing silence of the chamber. A rack of gaudy gowns caught her attention. Vajarra would probably like those, she mused. Vajarra had patience, focus, and discipline, and never hesitated to remind Vassanta of her lack of them. The thought was sour, but her prissy sister might actually have some good advice, Vassanta admitted.

She paused at the mail receptacle to scrawl a brief note, and stuffed it into the slot. After a moment’s consideration, she strode down a hallway that she had not traveled for a great while – toward O’ros’s chamber.


End file.
